


Sleigh Me

by unicornsandbutane



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Bickering, Come Eating, Dirty Talk, Felching, M/M, Office Party, Oral Sex, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 12:47:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8891332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicornsandbutane/pseuds/unicornsandbutane
Summary: The_Iron_Dragon requested a Kylux modern AU with a holiday party disaster.Kylo’s costume at the office Christmas do is one hell of a holiday surprise. Hux has no choice but to pin him up against the nearest surface and plow him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Iron_Dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Iron_Dragon/gifts).



He couldn’t believe it. There was actually mistletoe hanging in a corner by the bar, and if that wasn’t completely inappropriate for an interdepartmental holiday do, Hux didn’t know what was. If he saw any of his colleagues snogging he thought he might be sick. It was bad enough that there was a photo booth, and unlimited drinks so long as they stuck to cheap liquor. At least people had been fairly conservative with their costumes. No “Naughty Mrs. Claus” outfits this year. Hux had arrived with his requisite Christmas jumper, and left it at that, but some of his colleagues wore antlered headbands, or hats with elf ears. The Education team seemed to have gone all-out, crafty bunch that they were, all decked out in shiny dresses with giant ribbons on the back like they’d all been gift wrapped. His department was noticeably less festive, probably too tired from a long week of uninstalling the Remembrance Day displays to bother with anything more elaborate than santa hats. 

He sipped his vodka cranberry and covered his jump when Phasma, one of the duty managers, fell heavily into the chair next to him. She wore a red sweatshirt over her shiny silver minidress, emblazoned with the phrase “Prosecc-Ho Ho Ho” in embroidered script. Standing, she was nearing seven feet tall, in her strappy stiletto heels. 

“Have you seen Kylo from Research yet?” she asked. She didn’t really have to specify “from Research” since Hux didn’t think there was more than one Kylo in the whole of the museum’s staff, but she always did it anyway. Even if he was the only one, and even if he was only a Research Assistant. 

“I haven’t. What’s he done now?” Hux looked around the room, didn’t see any signs of disturbance. The man was a holy terror, known interdepartmentally for his temper. Hux remembered the last time Kylo had been allowed to speak at a lecture on the Manhattan Project, or, specifically, Major General Skywalker’s involvement in it, and had started a fight with an attendee. Phasma's eyes glinted wickedly over the rim of her wine glass. She had a cruel sense of humour, and seemed to be waiting for the day Kylo would fuck up irreparably. Hux didn’t even think she particularly disliked the volatile man; she just had a bad case of schadenfreude. 

Hux, on the other hand, disliked that it was only through Kylo’s personal friendship with the museum’s director that the man didn’t lose his job after the lecture incident, and found Kylo difficult to work with, besides. He didn’t particularly hope to encounter him at the party, didn’t think he’d have to, with as many employees as there were, milling about, clustered around cloth draped tables which, Hux thought, looked distinctly incongruous under the Spitfires and the P-38 Lightning suspended from the ceiling, the Panzer tank at the far end of the room. 

It wasn’t that he thought the man incompetent, unworthy of respect. He had to admit that Kylo knew his subject— perhaps too well. Any time he and Hux had worked together on an exhibition, Hux found Kylo demanding and uncompromising, but also indecisive and prone to sudden radical changes in his plans. He didn’t know how the rest of the Research and History team got on with him at all, though, as he scanned the crowd, he noticed quite a few of them were not in attendance. The curator of documentation picked over some hors d’oeuvres, alongside one of the National Trust’s curatorial trainees. A junior archivist loitered by the bar. No sign, though, of Kylo Ren.

“Ah,” Phasma intoned, lifting her glass just enough to direct Hux’s attention. “There he is.” 

Hux nearly choked. Kylo was barely dressed. There, indeed, was the traditional antlers headband, but beyond that, he wore black gloves, black boots, and some tiny shorts better suited to a pride parade than an office Christmas party. He had a collar with jingle bells on it. What on earth was he thinking? Everyone seemed to want to offer a comment on his outfit (or lack thereof) as he passed, and so his progress to the bar was slow. Desperately slow. Slow enough that Hux caught long moments of Kylo’s thighs flexing, his abs contracting, his arms and shoulders and pectoral muscles an uncharted territory Hux had never even known was on the map. He closed his mouth when he realised he’d been gawping like a freshly landed trout, and glanced at Phasma just in time for her to raise her glass. Christ, but her schadenfreude extended to Hux as well, because why else would she call the ridiculous man over where Hux would have to /look/ at him in detail, and possibly even /speak/?

Kylo sidled over with what smelled like a pint of cider, grabbed some olives from the bowl on the table. Hux tried not to watch him peeling the flesh of the olive from the pit with his teeth, tried instead to think about how infuriating Kylo had been when they worked together on /Personal Effects: Soldiers’ Stories in Worldly Goods/ two years before. 

“What are you supposed to be?” Phasma asked, and even though she wasn’t smiling, Hux could tell she was enjoying this. 

Kylo looked down at himself. “Sleigh ride,” he said without a hint of irony. 

“Shouldn’t you be dressed as a sleigh then?” Phasma went on, while Hux quietly felt his soul escaping his body. Kylo took a deep drink, and Hux couldn’t help but watch his throat click as he swallowed. He’d thought he was over this. He’d been able to put Kylo’s solemn, pouting mouth, punctuated by that stupid, immature labrey piercing, out of his mind. He’d never expected the full-force punch to the gut that was Kylo Ren dressed like some kind of slutty holiday go-go dancer.

“What, like, with a box on suspenders? I didn’t want to have to carry that around,” Kylo replied, grabbing for a pretzel stick, munching it loudly. Hux wanted to scream almost as much as he wanted to lick the salt from Kylo’s lips.

“Pragmatic,” Phasma noted, and sipped her wine. They chatted back and forth about recent problem visitors, a subject of which Phasma never tired. Hux drank a little faster, just to avoid conversation, and soon thereafter noticed his glass was empty. Standing from his stool made him wobble a bit, but he’d rather keep drinking than look at Kylo any longer, and he began edging his way over to the bar, only for Kylo to follow him there. 

Kylo pushed past him, and not only was this annoying because it put Kylo at the bar before him, but it also caused his warm, solid chest to brush along Hux’s back and side, his bare thigh to slide under Hux’s hand as he passed. Kylo didn't seem to notice, simply leaned over the bar to look into an ice bucket of beer and consider its contents. This but his ass in those small shorts, made of some sort of slightly shiny faux-leather material, on full display, right in front of Hux, so close he could press his hips to it if he so chose. Christ but Kylo’s ass was perfect. It looked round and firm and Hux’s hands tensed into fists at his sides. He bit the inside of his lip. Kylo straightened up with a Peroni, and turned, tilted his chin when he realised how close Hux was standing. Maintaining eye contact, he took a long pull from his beer, pulled the bottle away from his lips slowly. 

“So what are you supposed to be?” Kylo asked, one hand reaching out to pluck at Hux’s jumper, right at the centre of his chest.

Hux looked down, flushed, tugged at the hem of his jumper to straighten it out. It was black, with a white cross-stitch knit pattern and the words “Mean One” on it.

“It’s just a jumper,” he said. His head felt a bit swimmy, but he didn’t let that stop him from side-stepping Kylo to order his fourth vodka cranberry of the night. He watched the bartender generously measure out a jigger and a half of vodka over ice before topping it up with the cranberry and garnishing with lime. He stirred it with the black plastic straws and found Kylo was still standing there when Hux turned from the bar. 

“You should've come as a gingerbread man,” Kylo said, before lifting his drink to his lips again. The bottle clinked against that metal stud under his lip. “You know. Because you’re ginger.” 

“I got it,” Hux remarked drily, “Thank you.” He tried to find a way through the crowd, couldn’t see where Phasma had gone off to, saw that his table had been taken over by a crowd of women from HR. 

“Phasma told me you’ve been getting regular complaints from someone about the current exhibition.” Kylo, still behind him, was making steady progress with his beer. Hux wondered how many he’d had already. He placed a hand on Hux’s shoulder to keep contact with him as Hux wove through the crowd. “It’s not an issue with the content, I’m sure.” 

The implication, of course, was that it wasn’t Kylo’s department’s fault. Honestly, Hux didn’t think the many complaints submitted by this particular guest were anyone’s fault, really. He thought the man was simply a serial complainer and a professional letter-writer. Someone with entirely too much free time and delusions of grandeur. Much like someone /else/ he could think of. Of course, he couldn’t say that to someone so close to Sir Geoffrey Snoke FBA CBE, Director of the Imperial Museum of Military History. Even slightly tipsy, he realised that. He also understood that Kylo might be suggesting the persistent comments by that guest were the fault of the Exhibitions team, which would necessarily make Hux directly responsible. 

He couldn’t have that. Couldn’t have someone from R&H thinking that, or worse, mentioning it casually amongst themselves, giving it credibility. Couldn’t have it getting to the Director. He tugged Kylo into Room 10, between the long cases of WWI uniforms, and let the door swing shut behind them. 

It was quieter, there, the noise of the party muffled and cut off. Kylo blinked at him for a moment, then raised his free hand to Hux’s jaw, leaned down the few inches to kiss him. 

It took Hux a few seconds to react, as he felt Kylo’s lips moving against his, slightly chapped and demanding. Hux could smell his skin, could taste the beer and the cider, felt Kylo’s gloved hand slip into his hair, then the ball of his piercing bumped Hux’s lower lip and Hux suddenly snapped back, his drink spilling slightly over his fingers. 

“What the fuck are you doing?! Are you totally mental?” Hux hissed, wiping his hand on his trousers. Kylo didn’t seem ashamed. He seemed more confused than anything. 

“You pulled me in here. I thought, with the way you’ve been looking at me…” He placed his empty bottle on the ground. “But if you don’t want to…” 

Simple as that he backed off, began to walk back towards the door, but Hux caught him by the fingers, halted his progress. 

“Now hang on,” Hux huffed. “What I wanted to say before all of /that/—” He was probably blushing. He could blame it on the vodka. “was that there’s nothing wrong with the exhibition. Nothing that’s my team’s fault, anyway. And I would prefer if you didn’t make any comments to the contrary around your department.” He probably shouldn’t be doing this, but the alcohol had him feeling hot all over. It would be fine. It needed to be said. And Kylo couldn’t just kiss him to shut him up. He shouldn’t kiss him. Really, really shouldn’t. Hux shouldn’t want to kiss him. He wanted to lick him from his navel to his throat.

Damn him, Kylo only rolled his eyes. “Is that all?” he asked, though he didn’t pull his hand away from Hux’s. “I liked my way better.” 

“I— Oh,” Hux answered, stupidly. “Did you want… that?” His drink was cold in his hand, and he looked for a place to put it before Kylo took it from him, took a sip. It was a dick move, but Hux licked his lips watching him, waited until Kylo had put the drink down next to his empty bottle before reaching for him again. “We should get away from the door,” Hux said. “There’s a window in it.”

Kylo pulled him behind a display of nursing uniforms, where they were partially obscured by a flag, crowded him against the glass. 

“That’s real fuckin’ patriotic looking, you know. You on a backdrop of the Union Jack,” Kylo teased, nosing at Hux’s ear. Hux snorted.

“At least take those damned antlers off,” Hux complained. “You’re hitting me in the face.”

Kylo pulled away from him, biting down on a smile. “No, I shan’t,” he drawled. “It’s Christmas.” 

“Ugh!” Hux scoffed, pulling the headband off, himself, and letting it fall to the ground. “Wanker.” 

Kylo only continued to smirk at him, before brushing their lips together, his hands caging Hux in against the display case, letting Hux open to him. Hux did. He slid his arms around Kylo’s bare back, felt the heat of his skin, the flex of his muscles, opened his mouth on a gasp and moaned as Kylo licked into his mouth. He tasted good. He smelled good. Hux wanted him badly enough that he began thinking about what the closest unlocked bathroom would be. 

Kylo began nibbling his way down Hux’s jaw to his throat, nudged at the collar of his shirt peeking out from under the jumper. 

“Always so buttoned up, Hux. Even at a party. It’s kind-of hot.” Kylo’s fingers had gotten under his shirts, his rough fingertips slightly cold against Hux’s belly. “Let’s see if the carpet matches the drapes.” 

Hux made a derisive sound through his nose. He’d heard that phrase entirely too many times in his life, but then Kylo pulled his shirts up like he was a co-ed on Girls Gone Wild, and his body felt hot despite the trite words. 

“Oh shit,” Kylo gasped. “It does.”

“Of course it does, what did you think—” But Kylo’s thumb began stroking at the sparse hair marking his lower belly, and Hux struggled unglamorously out of his shirts so they wouldn’t be bunched up in his armpits anymore. 

He wasn’t as well-built as Kylo was, but Kylo stroked his large hands up Hux’s ribs, seemed intrigued by how much of Hux’s body he could span with the spread of his fingers. 

“Should we be worried about the cameras?” Kylo asked, as if it weren’t already too late for that, as if he wasn’t sliding his hands around Hux’s body to grip his ass. 

“Nobody looks at them unless there’s a problem. The ones in the cloakrooms don’t even work,” Hux confided. He had that on good authority from Phasma. “So let’s just make sure there aren’t any problems, right?” 

Kylo chuckled quietly into Hux’s shoulder, licked over his collarbone. “I’ll try to be careful not to come all over the decades-old ephemera.”

“You would be just about the worst research assistant on earth if you did,” Hux chided, tipping his head back. The glass was cold against his back and it made him arch, the length of his body rubbing against Kylo’s. 

“Fuck, yeah,” Kylo said, pressing closer, skin to skin. “Your skin is fucking amazing. And you smell like grapefruit.” 

Hux didn’t answer; his mouth was busy working Kylo’s ear, making Kylo shiver against him. 

“Feels good. My ears are really sensitive,” Kylo confessed, and began to roll his hips against him, those little shorts leaving basically nothing to the imagination. “I like hearing your breath in my ear,” he whispered, holding Hux’s hips against his own, grinding down hard. Christ, he was huge, and Hux began to wonder if Kylo planned to put all of that in him right there in Room 10, with no lube, but then Kylo dropped to his knees and began undoing Hux’s belt. 

“Going to have to get your dick nice and wet if you’re going to fuck me,” he said, pulling at Hux’s button and zipper. The dirty talk was terrible but Hux’s cock twitched anyway, unconcerned. “I think I might still be kinds stretched from when I jacked off earlier before coming here, so. It won’t be as rough as it could be.” 

Jesus, they were really doing this. Kylo looked hot on his knees, his gloves stark against Hux’s skin where he gripped his hips. Before he pulled Hux’s underwear out of the way, he looked up, his eyes dark and glassy. 

“You want this, right?” His thumbs stroked Hux’s hipbones, and he worried his piercing with his teeth until Hux nodded. “Thank fuck,” Kylo answered. “I’m really hard, and I don’t want to go back out there like this.” He tugged Hux’s underwear down, and wrapped his hand around Hux’s cock. “Not bad, Hux. Nice and thick. It’s gonna feel good stretching me open.” He flickered a smile at Hux before sucking the tip into his mouth, and slowly working his way down. 

Hux slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his noises, but the sounds Kylo made in the quiet of the room were almost too much. He was sloppy about it, spit dripping down as he made good on his promise to get Hux ‘nice and wet’, and then he did something that made Hux bite into his fingers: he pulled off, and rubbed the ball end of his labrey into Hux’s slit. It felt clinical and strange, and Hux looked down, saw Kylo gripping Hux at the base and rubbing his cock over his face like that, and he shuddered and leaked a thick drop of precome across Kylo’s lips. Fuck, that image would probably be his sole masturbatory fodder for several weeks, at least. Kylo slurped down his length again, noisy, disgusting, making Hux pant and shake. 

“Do you,” he tried, waited for Kylo to pull off before continuing, “want me to eat your arse out?” He thought it might help lube and loosen him, and also, he wanted to do it. He wanted to see Kylo with those ridiculous shorts around his knees, bent over a display case so Hux could lick into his hole. 

“Oh my god,” Kylo grunted from the floor. “That’s really filthy. I should’ve expected you to be a nasty fuck.” He got to his feet, jingle bell collar pealing with tinkling chimes, and unbuttoned his shorts, revealing there was nothing underneath them.

“You should talk,” Hux countered, shoving his hand into Kylo’s open fly, gripping Kylo’s hard cock and making him whine. “Not wearing any pants to a work party. Put your hands up against that display, there.” Kylo braced against the same glass where he’d pinned Hux before, shoved his hips out like he was about to be frisked. Hux took in the sight for a moment, the long, lean lines of Kylo’s body, his ass in those shorts, before he wrenched them down and got a look at Kylo, almost entirely bare. “You were right about that flag,” he commented, seeing Kylo’s gloved hands splayed on the glass, the Union Flag hung up behind it. “I feel a bit like I’m claiming you for England.” 

Kylo laughed, a low, dark sound. “I’m not terra incognita. Think of this as more of a gift than a conquest. It’s supposed to be Christmas, after all.” 

“Right,” Hux drawled, getting to his knees. “And you’re a sleigh ride.” 

“Damn straight,” Kylo shot back, shaking his head so his collar jingled again before Hux gripped his ass and spread it open, looked at his hole. It was shiny with residual lube, pink, and perfect.

“Were you fingering yourself before you came to the party?” His thumbs inched closer to Kylo’s hole, spread it even more. 

“I already said I was,” Kylo replied. His voice was thick and strained. 

“Holy shit,” Hux mumbled, before he pressed forward and licked over Kylo’s hole, pressed his tongue against the rim, slipped into him. He was loose and easy, and Hux could taste that slightly plastic flavour of lube as he licked around, teased Kylo’s rim as much as he fucked his tongue into him.

Kylo was biting his arm to muffle his moans. His thighs shook, and his hips bucked back against Hux’s face as Hux pushed spit into him, got his ass dripping. “Fuck, Hux, fuck. Feels so good. No one ever wants to do this for me, but it feels so good. and just thinking about your prissy face in my ass, oh, fuck— Ah!” Hux pressed his teeth into the rim, just pressed them right there at the insult. /Prissy?/ Honestly. But the threat of his teeth had Kylo writhing, babbling nonsense, groaning into his bitten wrist. When Hux felt the saliva gathering on his chin, he pulled back, wiped his face. 

“Fuck me,” Kylo rasped, and the desperation in his voice made Hux’s cock jump. “Come on, please.” 

Hux shoved his trousers and underwear further down his legs, still slightly irritated that Kylo would call him names when he was tonguing his hole, spat in his hand, slicked his cock. Kylo continued to beg until Hux lined himself up and began to push in.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Kylo hissed, pressing his forehead against the glass. “So thick, fuck yeah, all the way in me, come on, come on, give me all of it. Oh!” he gasped, when Hux was fully seated. “Yeah.” His gloves squeaked against the glass as he tensed around Hux, made him stifle a moan. “More, Hux. Shit, I want to feel this at my desk tomorrow.” 

Hux drew back, thought about Kylo sitting in his office near the Director’s, the office Kylo shared with two archivists, squirming in his chair because he was still tender, and rammed back in. Kylo nearly choked on his moan, shoved back against Hux on the next thrust, demanded more and more, harder, faster, sweat gathering on his back. Hux bent forward to lick at it, and Kylo huffed a breathless laugh that turned into a groan. 

“I’d like to fuck you in your office,” Hux growled against Kylo’s back. “Yours actually has a door. Mine is all open-plan, and I can see clear across to Finance. You lucky bastard.” He gave Kylo a few long, drawn-out thrusts, just to make him press his hips back, needy. “I could come in during the lunch hour, bend you over your desk, ride you hard and then when we were done, I’d pull your trousers back up so you’d have to sit there with my come leaking out of your ass all afternoon.” 

“Oh, shit, Hux… Imagine if we fucked in /your/ office,” Kylo answered, squeezing down on Hux’s cock. “Everyone would see us. It’d be hot. Imagine everyone knowing what you get up to, what you look like right now, all pink and flushed and hard, sweating and biting your lip. I mean, fuck, that door’s not even locked. Anyone could come in here, see you railing my ass.” 

“They’d know what a slut you are, as if your /costume/ didn’t say it already,” Hux grit out. He sped his thrusts, and gripped Kylo’s hips when his knees threatened to buckle. It was rough, less lube than Hux would usually use, but Kylo liked it, groaned and arched the harder he went, and he was so hot around Hux’s cock. “Do you always do this at office parties?” Who else on staff had Kylo fucked? He tried to imagine it, Kylo fucking his way through the departments.

Kylo shook his head. “No. I’ve thought about doing it to you, though.” His voice was a harsh whisper, punched out of him as Hux continued to drive into him. “I thought about it, last year, when we… when we were working on that show. You were such a /bitch/, sending me those, /fucking/—” His thighs trembled, and he reached down, pulled his balls away from his body, forestalling his orgasm. “Those fucking /strongly worded/ emails. And your ass on that ladder. Shit!” Hux could see Kylo’s reflection in the glass, his pained face as he gripped himself at the base, tried to keep from coming. His cock was enormous, and he’d barely touched it, and Hux wondered how much of it he could fit in his mouth, what it would feel like to sit on it and let gravity do the rest. “You piss me off so much!” Kylo groaned, his body tense as a bowstring, fingers of his free hand scrabbling at the glass. 

“You too,” Hux answered, his hips stuttering. Kylo’s body was amazing, firm under his hands, gripping his cock, pulling him in. “I wanted to slap you and then shove my cock into your mouth. Your fucking lip ring when you pout—”

“I don’t pout,” Kylo whined, clearly on the edge. 

“Oh yes you do!” He’d never bickered through sex, but Hux was loving it. He felt the pull in his gut, knew he’d come soon, knew he’d fill Kylo with his release. “You insist upon having your way,” he growled, and thrust harder, his hips loudly slapping Kylo’s ass, “You don’t respect anyone else’s opinion,” his fingers dug into Kylo’s hips with enough force to bruise, “And you take cock like a greedy slut!” He slapped Kylo’s ass, the sound echoing in the empty room. 

“Fuck, Hux. Touch my cock, please,” Kylo begged, and Hux dropped a hand, wrapped fingers around Kylo’s erection, felt the wetness at the tip. 

"Do you like denying yourself until the last second?" he asked, stroking roughly up and down, making Kylo shake his head with another jingle of that ridiculous collar. "You wanted to make sure you could last, for me?” Kylo nodded, moaned loud enough Hux briefly worried someone would come in and check out the disturbance. He forgot all about it when Kylo clenched down on him again, a desperate sound shaking out of him. 

“I’m close, Hux. Gonna come all over this display case. You’re gonna have to go back to the bar, get some napkins to wipe it down. Walk of shame, Hux. Think they’ll know? See your face and know you were balls deep in me? Fucked me in front of photos of my /grandfather/?”

Hux groaned. That shouldn’t have been hot, but he found himself reaching for Kylo’s collar, gripping him by it as he angled sharp, powerful thrusts in, his other hand stripping Kylo’s cock and squeezing tight. 

“When you come, Hux,” Kylo panted, “I want you to fucking get down on your knees and lick it all out of my hole, eat me out good like you were earlier, lick out all your fucking /gingerbread frosting/—”

That was perhaps the worst thing Hux had ever heard and he gasped and came hard and shuddering into Kylo’s ass. 

“Oh,” he panted, rubbing his palm over Kylo’s tip, fitting the head of his cock into the cup of his hand, “Kylo, oh, oh /oh!/” He fucked his load in and in, felt it dribble out around his cock, thought about kneeling behind Kylo again to lick it all up. “Gonna make you lick your come up, too, then. Off the glass. Off the floor. Gonna hold your collar tight so you can’t quite swallow, make you hold it in your mouth and show me you cleaned it up like a good boy.”

“Fuck!” Kylo knocked his head against the case when he came, his whole body convulsing with it. Hux milked it out of him, stroked him until Kylo was begging, telling him it was too much, too much, he couldn’t take it. Hux withdrew his hand, but only to lift it to Kylo’s lips so he could suck his own come from Hux’s fingers. Kylo did, with a soft, broken moan, his tongue in the valleys between Hux’s fingers until they were clean. “Holy shit,” he mumbled against Hux’s fingers. Trailing his wet digits over Kylo’s lips, his jaw, his throat, his nipples, Hux made his way down to the floor, spread Kylo’s ass again, licked a broad stripe over his hole. Kylo grunted, dazed, and gripped at nothing, the glass unforgiving under his fingers.

Hux had never licked his come out of anyone’s ass, and he wondered why it had never occurred to him. Kylo’s well-fucked hole was so open under his tongue he could just lick right in almost as if he were kissing him. Kylo’s hole weakly clenched against his tongue, but that only succeeded in forcing another glob of Hux’s come out for him to eat up, and Hux moaned against him, making Kylo gasp and whine. Under the come and the lube, Kylo’s ass was so clean, Hux had to imagine the kinds of masturbatory habits the man had, had to imagine him cleaning out thoroughly so he could shove fingers, maybe a toy into himself, before coming to a work party. He pushed his tongue in as deep as it would go, and felt Kylo’s muscles tremble around him, heard the tortured sigh that fell from him. He pulled back, licked his lips.

“I didn’t think you’d really do it,” Kylo said quietly, sagging against the glass. “You’re something else.” Slowly, he tugged his shorts up, but it was an effort, his fingers numb against the fabric. Then, he sank to his knees, his back to Hux, and seemed to stare at his reflection in the glass. “I came dry just now, from you doing that. That was so fucking hot I can’t even believe it.”

Hux wiped his mouth, stood to pull his trousers up and inspect the glass. There were some smudges where his back and Kylo’s face had pressed into it, but Kylo’s gloves at least kept it free of handprints. Hux supposed Kylo had also come mostly in his hand, rather than against the case, and, well, it was almost a pity. He picked up his shirts, used his undershirt to wipe up the worst of their prints. 

When he’d gotten his tee on, his shirt buttoned, and his jumper over his head, Kylo had barely moved. He still sat seemingly catatonic on the floor and Hux wobbled over to where they’d had left his vodka cranberry, plucked it up off the ground. He took a few sips so he didn’t smell like he’d just eaten his own come out of Kylo Ren’s ass, and wandered back over to Kylo, pressed the sweating glass against the man’s hand.

“Here,” he said, smirking a little as Kylo grasped the glass with both hands, seemingly mistrustful of his own dexterity. “Drink and be merry.” 

Kylo drank slowly, and Hux picked up the antler headband, offered it to Kylo once he’d finished what was left of the cocktail. 

“I’m supposed to just go back out there and /mingle/ after something like that?” Kylo muttered, getting shakily to his feet. “Shit, I can see why people say Christmas is exhausting.” 

“Come on, Phasma will wonder where we’ve gone.” 

Before Hux could round the corner, Kylo was on him again, pressing him against another glass case with a jingle of bells. “Will you take me home?” he asked, lips against Hux’s ear, his words followed by kisses down Hux’s throat. “Take me back to yours and we can fight and fuck some more. I can tell you about all the terrible things I’ve wanted to do to you every time I get one of your passive-aggressive emails.” 

“Mm,” Hux murmured. “Are you actually going to do them, or is this like your other vague threats?” 

Kylo licked under his jaw. “Watch it, gingerbread,” he warned, but Hux only laughed and wrapped his arms around Kylo’s neck, ready to kiss him all over again. 

“Hux, are you in here?” Phasma's commanding voice rang out in the room, and he yelped, snapped out of his reverie. There was nowhere for him to go, and so he was still there, in the alcove with Kylo, when Phasma made her way over, still, astoundingly, wearing her stiletto heels at this stage of the night. “There you— oh.” She took in the scene, looked Kylo up and down, noticed his shorts were still undone. “I was going to say I’m taking Rey home. She’s absolutely trolleyed. But I see you’re making your own poor decisions. Good night, and happy Christmas.” 

Hux would never hear the end of this, he knew that much already. She was going to have an absolute field day with it. What he didn’t know was what Kylo would do. The man was staring after her, an impassive look on his face. 

“Damn,” he said. “I wanted to be able to tell her /I told you so/.”

“Must you be such a prick?” Hux sighed, making his way towards the door. “Peace on earth, goodwill toward men?” 

Kylo kept pace with him, flashed him a look. “Fuck that,” he said. “I bet you’ve never made the ‘Nice’ list in your life.” 

Hux sneered at him and pulled the door open just in time for Kylo to smack his ass in full view of the party. 

They beat a hasty retreat to grab their things and leave, jingling all the way.


End file.
